


i hope you hold the mirror up (to show me what i chose)

by CallicoKitten



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Post-Movie(s), honestly they deserve each other, snarky assholes snarking at each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: “So, world renowned surgeon, gets in a hideous accident, messes up his hands, blows all his money on experimental treatments none of which work, goes missing for months then turns up in New York and Hong Kong right when things are getting weird.”Stephen sighs, “Is this a highlight reel?”Stark leans forward, “This is me trying to figure you out, Strange.”---aka, the one where tony bullies stephen into joining the avengers (sort of, anyway)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Надеюсь, ты поднимешь зеркало (чтобы показать мне, что я выбрал)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353927) by [Bat_out_of_hell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat_out_of_hell/pseuds/Bat_out_of_hell)



> so doctor strange was pretty neat even if every other thought i had was man, oscar isaac would have killed it
> 
> i haven't read any doctor strange comics so i really have no idea what i'm doing but hey, what else is new
> 
> title is from dear fellow traveller by sea wolf

Stephen’s been trying to keep a low profile since he got back to New York, there are lots of tricky questions he’d rather not answer. There were a few news articles on the Ancient One’s death, the mysterious cloaked figure that fell out of the sky onto a busy New York street but ever since the Incident, those stories have come a dime a dozen so Stephen’s not too worried. Weird is the new normal these days, apparently but despite Christine’s best efforts it seems someone from the hospital has talked.

Tony Stark is sitting on his desk when he gets back to New York from London. It gives him a start and Stark smirks like that’s a personal accomplishment.

“Mr Stark,” Stephen greets. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“Well, there seemed to be a lot of delicate artefacts that quite frankly, intimidated me so I figured the desk would be a safe bet for not bursting into flames if I looked at it funny,” Stark says, grinning.

Stephen has always hated Tony Stark but right now, face to face, he’s struck by the intensity of his loathing. “The chair wasn’t good enough?” he asks, pointedly.

Stark spreads his hands and hops off Stephen’s desk, settling himself in the chair and sprawling out like he owns the place.

Stephen rolls his eyes and walks around to his side of the desk, “So, Mr Stark, what can I do for you?”

“Well, Steve,” Tony leans forwards, “Can I call you Steve?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Mr Strange, then.”

“ _Doctor,_ ” Stephen corrects.

Stark smirks, “I heard you were a little testy about _that._ ”

Stephen takes a deep, steadying breath. Wong will probably take away his cape if he kicks Tony Stark through a gateway to the Antarctic or the Gobi Desert or something. It’s not like Stark couldn’t get out of there on his own, though. He’s wearing a bulky wrist-band the same colour as his Iron Man suit. He’d be fine.

Stark must realise that Stephen’s not rising to his bait because he goes on, “So, world renowned surgeon, gets in a hideous accident, messes up his hands, blows all his money on experimental treatments none of which work, goes missing for _months_ then turns up in New York _and_ Hong Kong right when things are getting weird.”

Stephen sighs, “Is this a highlight reel?”

Stark leans forward, “This is me trying to figure you out, Strange.”

Stephen smirks, “Have I stumped the great Tony Stark?”

Stark smiles, humorlessly, “Don’t flatter yourself, Strange. You’re not that hard a read. In fact, I knew a guy just like you once. Arrogant, charming, _dashingly handsome._ You meet at least one of those criteria.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Stephen challenges.

Stark stands and folds his hands behind his back. He starts pacing like this is some kind of rehearsed performance, with purpose, not meandering, “I’ve read your work, Strange, you know that? You were good."

Stephen bristles, “I was _the best_.”

Stark smirks, “Sure you were. But the point is, you were brilliant, some of your theories and techniques? Absolutely _brilliant._ But you’re clinical, Strange. The patients you wrote about, there was no warmth there. You saw them as objects to be fixed, not people.”

“That’s a hefty accusation for a former _arms dealer,_ ” Stephen bites and Stark flinches at that, a twitch of lips, a darkening of his expression.

“Touche,” he says, meeting Stephen’s gaze. “For what it’s worth though, it wasn’t exactly a criticism.”

 

“Oh, wasn’t it?”

 

“ _No,_ ” Stark says, a certain exasperation to his tone. “Jeez, you’re touchy. _Anyway_ , what I was going to say is that that detachment was what made you a good surgeon.”

 

 _Oh,_ Stephen thinks. He sits back, thoughtful. Stark goes on, “It takes a certain amount of detachment to do the things you did and I can’t fault you there. But what that detachment doesn’t lend itself to is selflessness.” Stark has stopped pacing now, has come to a halt in front of Stephen’s desk. He leans down slowly, palms flat against the smooth wood.

 

“Oh,” Stephen says. “I get it. This is an interview. You’re trying to work out if I’m worthy enough to join your little team.”

 

Stark withdraws, “I didn’t say that.”

 

Stephen smirks, “You didn’t have to.”

 

Stark doesn’t reply for a time, he’s backed away, standing behind the empty chair now, fingers drumming on the leather as he studies Stephen thoughtfully. Stephen wonders if he’s placed the chair between them consciously. “I called you once,” Stark says, quietly. “Well, Pepper did but still - “

 

Stephen remembers. In the beginning, he’d dreamt of that night over and over and over. If he’d answered the call for Rhodes would he have stayed on the road? Would the crash have been less damaging? Worse, maybe? He’s heard Rhodes is making a strong recovery.

 

“Yes,” Stephen says, thickly. “I was otherwise occupied at the time.”

 

A faint smile tugs at Stark’s mouth and after a beat, he comes around the chair again to sit down. “So,” he says.

 

“So,” Stephen echoes.

 

“You gonna let me in on why the sudden about face?”

 

Stephen hesitates. He’s not about to spill his guts for Tony Stark. “I could ask the same of you, Stark,” Stephen says, instead. “The arms dealer who became a superhero. I was there that day, you know, when you flew that nuke into the breach. I saw you fall.” That’s a lie, of course. Stephen was too busy in the hospital, helping shunt patients down into the basement, tending to the first few wounds that came in. _Slumming it in the ER_ , Christine had said.  He’d seen it three days later though, when he’d finally, _finally_ been able to go home and found himself too wired to sleep. The news still had the footage on a loop, Stark had done an interview, wild-eyed and still a little shaky.

 

“Oh, come on, Strange,” Stark says. “There are entire _books_ written on that. There’s a documentary too, it’s on Netflix I think but I can send you a screener if you’re really that interested. It’s up for an Oscar, apparently. A real tearjerker.”

 

Stephen glowers at him.

 

Stark grins. “So, I hear you’re helping Thor work out his daddy issues finally.”

 

 _Ah,_ Stephen thinks. “So he told you about me.”

 

“Actually, it was Banner. The last thing I heard from the big guy was some Australian trying to sue us because Thor got him fired or something. Daniel? Derrick? Something like that. Anyway, shouldn’t you offer me a drink, or something? Do you _have_ manners, Strange?”

 

Stephen sits back, pulls a glass of water out of thin air. Stark doesn’t blink, “You got something stronger there?”

 

The water bleeds into scotch and Stark grins, accepting the glass. He swirls it and takes an experimental sip. Stephen has picked something cheap, something Stark probably wouldn’t touch. Stark grimaces, “You have appalling taste in scotch.”

 

Stephen smiles, “Well, if you’d called ahead I would have been more prepared.”

 

Stark grins as he drains his glass. He stands up, sets the empty glass down on the desk. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Mr Strange.”

 

“ _Doctor._ ”

 

“Sure,” Stark says. He takes one last look around the office.

 

“And should I expect a visit from Steve Rogers to recruit me for his side too?” Stephen asks, before Stark has a chance to say anything else.

 

“Oh, _low blow,_ Strange,” Stark says. “I doubt it. Our patriotic friend is still a wanted man, after all. Besides, for the record, I don’t think you’d be a good fit for the team. You seem a little volatile. Self-obsessed. I don’t think you’d play well with others.”

 

Stephen doesn’t want to join the Avengers, he’s too _busy_ to join the Avengers but _still._ “Self obsessed,” he mutters. “You have no _idea_ the sacrifices I made.”

 

“Oh _big deal._ We’ve all flown nukes into wormholes, Strange. You’re not that special.” He turns to go and Stephen closes his eyes. Counts to ten. Maybe the Gobi wouldn’t do Stark well, maybe he could send him to Everest, or the bottom of the Marina Trench. Let him Tony Stark his way out of _that._

 

“Oh, by the way,” Stark pauses by the door. Stephen clenches his shaking hands into fists (as much as he can, anyway.) “What’s the deal with that Christine chick? She fair game or?”

 

Stephen stands up.

 

“Alright, alright,” Stark says, “Message _received._ ”

 

He ducks out. Stephen slams his hands on the desk (and immediately regrets it.).

 

\---

 

Christine drops by a few days later, “Why is Iron Man stalking me?” she demands.

 

Stephen frowns, “He’s stalking you?”

 

Christine nods, she looks furious. “He turned up on my doorstep and at the hospital. Both times to talk about _you._ ”

 

“I’ll deal with it,” Stephen promises.

 

“You better,” Christine huffs.

 

He waits until she’s gone before opening a gateway into Stark’s New York apartment and swipes the specs for Stark’s Iron Man suit, leaving a note that promises he’ll release them if Stark doesn’t leave Christine alone. He gets a cease and desist notice the next day accompanied by a handwritten note promising Black Widow will kick his ass if he doesn’t give Stark his stuff back.

 

He puts the specs back where he found them.

 

\---

 

The next time he sees Stark, it’s on his terms. He opens a gateway into the kitchen at the Avengers tower and strides in. It’s 1pm (Stephen’s not a monster, after all) and Stark looks like he’s just gotten up, dressing boxers and a vest, his hair sleep mussed. He jumps when Stephen appears, his coffee cup shatters on the floor.

 

 _“Jesus_!” He glares at Stephen, “That was my favourite mug.”

 

Stephen grins, he waves a hand and the mug repairs itself. It’s minor time magic. Wong probably won’t be too mad since he’ll inevitably find out.

 

Stark runs a hand through his hair and leans down to pick up the mug, “Alright, Harry Potter, you’ve made your point. Now what are you doing in my kitchen?”

 

Before Stephen can answer, Vision glides into the room, frowning, “Is everything alright?” He peers at Stephen curiously.

 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Merlin here has the same issues with doors you do, apparently,” Stark answers.

 

Vision nods and after a final look towards Stephen he leaves. Stephen stares after him.

 

“Fascinating, isn’t he?” Stark says.

Stephen nods. When he looks back, Stark is watching him, intently. When Stephen’s gaze meets his, he looks away, staring at the wall Vision drifted through. Officially, Vision is classed as an alien lifeform, like Thor and Loki but Stephen’s not alone in thinking that’s not quite the truth. In the early days, there was push for an official investigation into his origins but Stark, with his money and influence, kept blocking it. Kind of ironic given more recent events.

 

“He was made by accident, you know,” Stark says. “Ultron built him, guess that makes him my grandson or something.”

 

“What gave him life?” Stephen asks.

 

“Thor called it an infinity stone. Even Vision doesn’t know how it works.”

 

Stephen narrows his eyes. “Infinity Stone?” Since Wong mentioned it, he’s searched high and low for information and come up empty handed.

 

“Yeah,” Stark says, frowning at Stephen. “Why? You know something about them, Strange?”

 

“I have to go,” Stephen says. He opens up a gateway but Stark calls after him.

 

“Wait, wait, you don’t get to apparate into my kitchen and then vanish without an explanation!”

 

Oh, right.

 

Stephen turns back towards him, “An ex-member of my order, Karl Mordo. We have reason to believe he may be falling to the darkness. Ex-students have been turning up with their magic drained.”

 

Stark closes his eyes briefly, “Falling to the darkness,” he repeats. “What the hell, Strange? What am I supposed to do about that?”

 

“Nothing,” Stephen says, halfway through the gateway, “Just keep an eye out.”

 

Stark says something further but it’s lost as Stephen shuts the gate behind him.

 

\---

 

He finds Thor in the library, pouring over ancient tomes. His working theory is that his father may have left clues as to his whereabouts or, at least, that he’ll stumble upon something that will lead him to whomever - or whatever, led to his father’s disappearance. His brother, Loki, is cuffed and muzzled next to him. He glares at Stephen as he bursts through the doors and Thor looks up.

 

“Stephen Strange,” he greets. “Unfortunately, I have had no luck in finding my father.”

 

Stephen ignores this, “Infinity stones,” he demands, “What do you know about them?”

 

Thor blinks. Beside him, Loki frowns.

 

“Not much,” Thor says. “It was the stones that brought me back to Asgard in the first place but there were none yet alive who knew more than sparse details, fairy stories.”

 

“Tell me,” Stephen insists.

 

“In the vaults at Asgard, we had an ancient gauntlet. The story goes that in a time before creation, there were six forces that, during the creation of the universe, were forged into six stones. Across the eons, beings have come in contact with these stones and harnessed their powers but so far, none have managed to unit the six stones. There was one who tried though, my father was able to defeat him but we have reason to believe he is rising again. That being intended to use the gauntlet to unite the stones. If he does, he may become unstoppable. We have two of the stones, one is with Vision, the other is in Asgard. A third, a weapon known as the aether has been… misplaced.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes.

 

“The gauntlet too is missing,” Thor admits, glaring at his brother. He looks back to Stephen, “I believe my father was involved in the defeat of this great being or at least, he will have some knowledge of the stones. Why do you ask, Stephen?”

 

Stephen considers for a moment before he answers. At the very least Thor may be able to intimidate Wong into giving up what information he _does_ have on the stones but he’s not about to let Loki know any of this. Loki seems mostly immune to mind tricks so Stephen takes Thor aside, “We have one. In Tibet.”

 

“Is it safe?” Thor asks immediately.

 

“It will be,” Stephen promises.

 

\---

 

Wong moves the Eye. Stephen makes sure Wong is the only person who knows where.

 

He trusts Wong, hopefully it will be enough.

 

\---

 

Stephen dies every night in his dreams.

 

 _I have come to bargain,_ he says, over and over and over.

 

He is crushed. He is stabbed. He is torn apart.

 

He runs until his legs are jelly, quivering and folding beneath him and he crumple, can't catch himself because his hands shake and -

 

_Dormammu, I have come to bargain._

So mostly, he doesn't sleep. He spends his nights reading, learning about the artefacts in the Sanctum, reading everything he can find on the infinity stones. Thor has taught him Asgardian and Stephen is teaching himself a few other alien languages, desperate for anything to distract himself.

 

Thor, for his part, seems concerned. He seems uncertain around Stephen and Stephen gets it, he is far from welcoming, far from warm and friendly, he bristles, he snipes, he does not want to grow too involved in Thor's business when he has so much of his own to contend with.

 

"You remind me of my brother," Thor says, one night. He leans against the doorframe to the library, bare foot and shirtless.

 

Thor has been careful not to allow his brother to spend time with Stephen on his own, never speaking unless spoken to. From what little Stephen has seen Loki is feral thing, raging endlessly against whatever imagined slights have been made against him.

 

Not a flattering comparison.

 

Stephen slams his book shut and Thor shakes his head, "I mean no offence, Stephen. My brother was - _is -_ a  man of great intellect, he could and has done anything he put his mind to." He sighs, "It is just a pity that he has put his mind to such nefarious deeds."

 

"Well," Stephen says wryly. "We can't all be such beacons of hope and salvation."

 

Thor smiles faintly, "No, I suppose not." For whatever reason, he steps into the room, settling himself in the chair across from Stephen and sitting back comfortably. "On Asgard, his magic set him apart from the rest of us. It was not a... a _respected_ art. People viewed it as cowardly. He was lonely, I think. Lonely and angry. I was a fool not to see it earlier."

 

Stephen huffs, "Is there a point to this?"

 

Something like annoyance flickers across Thor's gaze, annoyance that says Stephen has missed something but Stephen is too tired to care.

 

"Not at all," Thor says, jovially. He stands, slowly, "I think I shall retire. You should do the same, my friend, it is rather late."

 

Stephen hums.

 

\---

 

When Stephen wakes the next morning, sprawled inelegantly on the couch in his rooms in the Sanctum it is to the very unwelcome sight of Tony Stark.

 

"You snore," Stark opens with. "It's very unattractive, Stephen. There are surgeries for that sort of thing, you know."

 

Stephen doesn't know whether that is supposed to be a sly dig or whether Stark is simply being thoughtless. Either way, he levels a glare at Stark and rubs at his face. It's late judging by the light pouring in from the curtains, "How did you get in here?" he demands but his voice is still sleep-rough and cracking.

 

"The big guy let me in," Stark says. "Are you aware that your apartment makes it look like you live in a perfume advert?"

 

Stephen digs the heels of his hands into his eyes; his head is still spinning from his dreams. "You're one to talk."

 

"Hey, hey," Stark says, "I'll have you know that paid a lot of money to get the Tower looking like that. Well, Pepper did, anyway."

 

"Excellent," Stephen says, standing up. He fell asleep in his clothes again. His cloak snaps to attention, drifts over to fasten itself around his neck. Stark watches it with interest. "Perhaps you can give me the number for your interior decorator, then."

 

"What, so you can steal my furniture too?"

 

Stephen stares, honestly bewildered. Stark grins and reaches up to stroke his beard. _Oh,_ Stephen thinks. Stark keeps grinning, "Come on, Strange, you can't tell me you didn't take at least a _little_ bit of influence from me. I am one of the most influential figures of the century, you know, it's in probably all magazines, you must have heard."

 

Stephen closes his eyes. He could send Stark to the other side of the cosmos if he tried to. "Are you here for a reason, Stark?"

 

Stark shrugs, "It's been a slow day." When Stephen glares he waves his hands, "Alright, alright. I thought I'd follow up on that infinity stone thing."

 

Stephen frowns, "That infinity stone thing?"

 

"You know, the time you interrupted my breakfast and freaked out when I told you Vision's little secret."

 

"Right," Stephen says. He waits for Stark to elaborate. This seems to annoy him and Stephen loves it.

 

"Well?" Stark prompts.

 

"Well, what, Stark?"

 

" _Well_ do we need to be worried?"

 

"Don't worry, Stark, I have it handled."

 

This also seems to annoy Stark. His eyes narrow, "Look, Strange, I know you've got this whole 'Sorcerer Supreme' thing going on and you think you can do this by yourself but if the past few years has taught me nothing it's that things work better when people work together."

 

Stephen snorts, "Yes and you're just the _poster boy_ of teamwork, Stark."

 

Stark bristles, "That was out of my hands."

 

"I'm _sure,_ " Stephen says. Stark looks like he's about to argue, about to bleed his guilt all over Stephen's carpet and Stephen just doesn't _care._ "Look, Stark, how about you deal with the Earth-level threats, hm? We all saw what happened when you tried to _broaden your horizons_."

 

That cuts deep, Stark practically _reels._ He licks his lips and Stephen can tell he picks his next words carefully, "Watch yourself, Strange," he says. "People like you don't last long on their own. I should know."

 

"Ah, yes," Stephen says, incensed now, "Your _friend,_ the one that's just like me. Tell me, Stark, what was it that happened to him?"

 

"Oh, he lost everything," Stark says back and that gives Stephen a pause. "Everything, Strange. Everything that _mattered,_ " Stark says, open and honest. "But whatever, you don't need anyone's help, do you?"

 

He's halfway across the room and Stephen holds his tongue.

 

"Oh," Stark says, from the doorway, "those nightmares you think you're hiding? They're not going to go away until you deal with your shit, Strange. Take it from someone that's been there."

 

\---

 

Christine phones him late one evening. "Tony Stark asked me to keep an eye on you," she says, before anything else.

 

"Yes, hello to you too, Christine, I'm perfectly well, yourself?" Stephen says.

 

He can practically _hear_ Christine rolling her eyes, "Fuck you, Stephen," she says, only half-fondly. "Are you okay? Should I be worried?"

 

"I'm _fine,_ " Stephen insists. "Stark's just being a... Wait, why were you talking to him?"

 

"I uh... A friend of his got hurt and I helped out. It was no big deal."

 

Stephen narrows his eyes, he would say something like _it's dangerous to get involved,_ or _please stay out of it, Christine,_ or _I don't want you to get hurt_ but he's fairly sure all that'll do is send her running arms open and welcoming into the fray. He bites his lip. "Be careful," he settles for.

 

Christine exhales, "I will. You too," she says, warmly.

 

\---

 

Stephen comes upon Loki in the library alone the day before Thor is to return to Asgard. Thor has been allowing Loki more freedoms as of late, with Stephen's permission and some choice artefacts dampening Loki's powers, of course.

 

Loki looks up at him. There is something like grudging respect in his gaze, he doesn't _like_ Stephen, Stephen knows, but he finds Stephen fascinating. Perhaps it's envy. He's heard Loki say to Thor that it is unusual for a mortal to be so powerful, even among the Ancient One's followers.

 

"Don't worry," he says, dryly. "I'm not planning world domination from your reading room, Strange. But of course," he adds, indicating the cuffs he wears. "You're perfectly aware of _that._ "

 

"Yes," Stephen says. "Strangely, attempted genocide doesn't lend itself to forgiveness."

 

" _Strangely,_ " Loki echoes. He smiles faintly and the barely there scars on his lips knit together. Stephen has read enough Norse Mythology to know what they are but he does not know who really put them there. Loki's smile fades and he goes back to studying Stephen intently.

 

"Will you tell me something before we leave, Strange?" he asks, eventually.

 

"That depends," Stephen says, carefully. "Will you tell me something in exchange?"

 

Loki bows his head, "If it is within my _remit_."

 

"Alright." Stephen crosses the room, stands in front of Loki and crosses his arms, "What do you want to know?"

 

"The being you defeated, Dormammu, how were you able to defeat him? Many far greater beings have tried and failed how is it that you, a mortal, were able to succeed where gods have failed?

 

Stephen smirks, "In all honesty, I annoyed him into leaving."

 

Loki's face falls. Whatever it was he expected it wasn't that. "Oh. Well," he says, looking infinitely disappointed. "How very human of you."

 

"So, your turn then," Stephen says. "And I want the truth, Liesmith."

 

Loki looks up at him, exasperated, "Of _course_."

 

"The being that's after the infinity stones," Stephen starts. "Thanos. You've met him or at least you know more than you're letting on."

 

All trace of exasperation is gone from Loki's face, he looks up at Stephen, an expression full of malice and venom. See that's the thing: Stephen's actually quite good at reading people. It's not something people usually pick up on about him, they mostly write his bluntness off as social ineptitude but Stephen's not inept at anything. Disinterested, maybe, but not inept.

 

"Is there a question?" Loki spits.

 

Stephen smiles. So he's right. Loki knows something. "You may have your brother fooled, but not me," he says, triumphantly. Loki rolls his eyes. Stephen continues, "Tell me about him."

 

"I could tell you things about Thanos that would make your flesh crawl, human," Loki speaks each word carefully, impressing each one with the right amount of venom, the right amount of bite. "But no, I don't know where he is, I don't know how he plans to get the rest of the stones and I don't know what he plans on doing with them. All I can tell you is that you and your Avengers and my idiot brother don't stand a chance against him."

 

"You'd be surprised," Stephen says.

 

\---

 

It is a week after Thor leaves that Karl comes for him. Stephen had not actually believed Karl would come, he'd hoped he was wrong. _Hoped._

When he opens his eyes, he knows immediately that something is very, very wrong.

 

His thoughts are slow and jumbled, his gaze is hazy. He must have fallen asleep somewhere odd again, crashed out from sheer exhaustion. He tries to move a hand, to scrub at his face but he can't.

 

He can't.

 

Can't even move his fingers.

 

Can't move _anything._

His breath comes sharp and panicked. He can't feel the cloak around his neck.

 

"I am sorry, my friend," a voice to his right says.

 

 _Karl,_ he tries to say but his mouth doesn't move.

 

Karl moves, comes into view, bending over Stephen. He smells like magic, acrid and electric.

 

"But you know deep down that I must do this," Karl says and no, no Stephen very much does not know why he's doing this. "Mortals like us should not have this power. We are too prone to fickleness, we abuse it, look what Kaecilius and his followers did! They almost destroyed the world. I will not let that happen again."

 

 _I saved the world,_ Stephen thinks desperately, angrily. **_We_** _saved the world with this power!_

Karl shakes his head, like this is hurting him somehow. "You are strong," he says, grimly. "I may have to return to finish you." He reaches out to touch Stephen's cheek. Stephen wants to flinch away, wants to turn his head.

 

He can't.

 

Karl's touch is fleeting but electric. It _burns._

 

"With your power and mine combined, I should be able to get what I'm really here for.  I know you moved the Eye, Stephen but I will find it." He turns away and sighs, heavily. "Do not tax yourself, my friend, Earth may have too many sorcerers but I may have use for you yet."

 

And with that he is gone.

 

\---

 

It takes all of Stephen's energy to throw his astral form out of his useless body. He drifts for a moment, blinking back stars clouding his vision, hyper-aware of his body, a limp husk, shallow breaths, jumping pulse. 

 

This is, he thinks, Very Not Good.

 

Christine is out of town; Wong is hopefully somewhere protecting the Eye. There is only one other person Stephen knows who might be able to help.

 

Whether that person is willing to help is a _whole_ other ballpark.

 

\---

 

Tony Stark just about jumps out of skin when Stephen appears in his workshop, ghostly and translucent.

 

"Holy fucking - ! _Strange_? Is that - ? Are you - ?" He takes a breath, "Is this a Christmas Carol type of situation? Are you the ghost of Christmas Past? Because I gotta tell you, Strange, it's barely November."

 

Just. He could send Tony Stark to the Dark Dimension and he's pretty sure no one could be mad at him for it.

 

" _Stark_ ," he says, and his voice comes out weaker than he would like. "I need - " he can feel each laboured breath his body takes. Whatever Karl has done to him, it's not good. It's so not good. "I need your help."

 

 _Please,_ he doesn't add but he's pretty sure Stark hears it anyway.

 

\---

 

Stark has Bruce Banner with him, Vision leaves to look for Karl, Natasha Romanov is back up, Colonel Rhodes is still out of action.

 

It's hardly the Avengers.

 

"Well, Casper, it's the best we've got," Stark snaps while Banner looks sympathetic.

 

"You look like shit," Stark says, when they get back to the New York Sanctum and Stephen would snap at him, tell him to get on with it but he's tired, he's so tired.

 

Banner runs tests on his blood using Stark technology that Stephen's sure could save billions of lives if hospitals could afford it. "Curare," he says and Stephen is infinitely glad Karl used something non-magic to paralyse him.

 

"We can fix this," Banner says. "Pyridostigmine won't be difficult to get a hold of."

 

Stephen lets himself sink back into his body with relief.

 

\---

 

He is drifting until he feels a sharp pain in his arm. He jerks - tries to jerk.

 

"It's alright," Banner says, appearing in his field of vision. "It'll take a little while to work, Tony's gone after your - the one who did this to you."

 

 _He's going to get himself killed,_ Stephen thinks but he can't -

 

\---

 

Stephen jerks awake.

 

His body moves with him.

 

He is on his feet before his brain has caught up, "Karl - "

 

"Whoa," someone says, to his left. He looks, it's Stark.

 

"Where - ?" Stephen manages.

 

"We lost your friend," Stark says, standing up. "But an elderly Chinese gentleman stopped by to tell you that the Eye is safe, whatever that means."

 

Stephen's head is spinning. His limbs feel heavy. "Wong," he murmurs.

 

"Yeah, him," Stark says. "He was very rude. You should find nicer friends, Strange."

 

Stephen blinks. He should talk to Wong, head to Tibet, check that everyone else is okay. He flexes his fingers but they ache like they haven't ached in a very long time. It hurts to move them, hurts like they're on fire.

 

"You should sit down," Stark says, "The poison is still in your system and Wong said that whatever Voldermort did to you will take a while to wear off."

 

"Voldermort," Stephen echoes. He sways. Stark grabs him by the arm and forcibly pushes him back onto the bed. "God, Karl," Stephen mutters.

 

The others they found with their powers drained had to start back at square one, square zero, square _minus_ one. His hands are shaking. Stephen can't - Stephen _can't -_ He's Sorcerer Supreme, he has to be able to defend Earth - _needs_ to be able to defend Earth - _Dormammu, I've come to bargain,_ he thinks, desperately as Dormammu kills him over and over and over again -

 

 _I could tell you things about Thanos that would make your flesh crawl, human,_ Loki said. _All I can tell you is that you and your Avengers and my idiot brother don't stand a chance._

And now Stephen is back to square one.

 

Stephen is useless again.

 

"Strange?" Stark says. He sounds very far away. "You still with me?"

 

Stark's hand is still on Stephen's arm.

 

"Strange? Don't make me call Banner back," he sounds worried now, Stephen tries to focus on his voice, on the warmth of his touch, tries to steady himself. "He has _appalling_ bedside manner, you would not _believe_ how awful it is."

 

"Whereas you," Stephen pants - _focus on your breathing, in and out, in and out, focus on the bed, solid and real, focus on Stark's voice, on his hand -_ "Are a magnificent little nursemaid, I'm sure." 

 

Stark lets out a little relieved laugh, "I've had no complaints."

 

Stephen hums, "A likely story." He eases himself back onto the bed. He's about to ask what happened with Karl when he remembers, "My cloak?"

 

"Oh," Stark says, "It's over there." He points. The cloak floats a little way away from the bed, it hovers uncertainly, like it's asking for permission or something. "It uh, woke up a few hours before you did and tried to strangle Banner. I think it thought he was trying to hurt you, or something? You seem to have a very unhealthy relationship to it."

 

Stephen stretches out a hand towards it and it darts across the room, settling itself about Stephen's shoulders.

 

"So, can it make you invisible?" Tony asks, after a beat.

 

\---

 

Wong tells him that he'll recover, slowly but he will. For whatever reason, Karl didn't drain him completely and Stephen still _remembers_ everything so there's that. He assures Stephen that the Eye is safe and that Karl will definitely make another attempt so they have to be ready.

 

"Perhaps you could ask your new _friends_ to help?" He says it lightly but there's something like _accusation_ in his gaze.

 

"Jealous, Wong?" Stephen fires back. "I told you I thought we needed to see other people."

 

Wong arches a brow. "Be careful, Stephen. We can't afford to be quick to trust these days. Have you told them about the Eye? What it is capable of?"

 

"No."

 

"Good," Wong says. "Now, I'll leave you to study. We cannot afford weakness now, Stephen."

 

 _Who died and made you the Ancient One,_ Stephen doesn't say.

 

As Wong is leaving, Tony Stark walks in. Wong glares at him silently as they pass each other and Tony's smile falters a little. He pauses to watch Wong leave, turning back to Stephen as Wong disappears through a portal to say, "I really don't think he likes me very much."

 

"Yes, well," Stephen says, with more warmth than he expected. "I don't think he's alone in that sentiment."

 

"Now, is that anyway to talk to someone who saved your life?" Tony asks, spreading his hands. "I bet you never had a worried parent talk to you like this, they were probably all weepy and thanking you."

 

Stephen cocks his head, "Is that what you came here for? For me to cry all over your expensive shirt and tell you how great you are?"

 

"Well, I mean," Tony says, shrugging.

 

"I'm sure you could pay someone to indulge you," Stephen says and then, "Thank you, though. For - For everything."

 

Tony grins, "Anytime, Strange."

 

There's a moment there where Stephen suddenly has no idea what he's supposed to say, all he really knows is that he's semi-glad he didn't kick Stark through a portal to nowhere.

 

"Don't get mushy on me though," Tony adds, hurriedly. "I still don't want you to join my team."

 

Despite himself, Stephen laughs. "And I still have no desire to join your team."

 

"Well then," Tony says, with a lop-sided grin. "At least we're on the same page about something."

**Author's Note:**

> the cloak doesn't work like that (probably???) but hey, if you wanted accuracy why're you reading fanfic, huh?
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://paracosmss.tumblr.com/)


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